Punishment & Weakness
by ourlittlesecret
Summary: A short drabble of what happens when Soubi has a tête-à-tête with his former teacher. Based on the 5th drama CD. Soubi x Ritsu


Disclaimer: As much as I would love to be Yun Kouga and draw sexy Soubis and Ritsus all day, I am not her, and her characters are not mine. a

Description: A short drabble of what happens when Soubi has a _tête-à-tête_ with his former teacher. Based on the 5th drama CD. I've only heard the prologue of the 5th drama CD, so. It obviously won't follow what actually happens.

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_Zzzt…_

_Zzzt…_

_Zzzt…_

Minami Ritsu could feel the vibe of his cell from across the desk, where the force of the vibrations had it spinning slowly in place. The glow of his computer cast the room in an ethereal light, and his butterflies fairly seemed to come alive from behind the glass, despite the pins so cruelly locking them down. So beautiful, but so fragile. Too fragile. They failed to lighten his mood, and he jabbed his thumb into the crack of his cell phone to flip it open.

"Minami."

"Agatsuma Soubi is on his way up."

Soubi, here? Whatever for? A delicate brow hiked up sardonically and, replacing his cell phone, he spun his seat away from the desk and stood. As if on cue, a knock sounded on the door. So predictable, that Soubi. He knew that one day the fighter would come back, would never _truly_ leave Ritsu. He'd known from the moment Soubi—a child then—had admitted that he wanted nothing more than to be Ritsu's figher unit. He had wanted it as well, but it had been— and was still—impossible.

It was curious really, how they could be so similar, and yet so different. Soubi stood in front of him, his face awash with guilt and…something else. Relief? He must really be a basket case; on a typical occasion, Soubi would be a mask of stoicism. And so would Ritsu. They were alike in that way—both too strong to show their weaknesses. But unlike his teacher, the fighter had the tendency to _break._ But at least he wouldn't lose in battle. Ritsu had made sure of that.

He pushed the door wide and moved out of the way to allow Soubi to pass, and the younger man moved into the doorway listlessly. He didn't bother to glance around, Ritsu noted with some sardonic amusement. And why should he? He'd seen this office more than enough times to have it memorized.

"Sensei…" Soubi stood in the center of the room, his face downcast. "I need to be forgiven."

Ahh. Ritsu moved around the room, forcing the other to suffer the silence during the time it took him to get from the door to his desk. It was only a few seconds, but to Soubi—who wanted nothing more to be punished so that he could feel better—it would be an eternity. Ritsu knew. After all, this man standing broken in his office_ belonged_ to him. He would never belong to Ritsuka—and had certainly never belonged to_ Seimei._ Disgusting brat. Blue eyes the color of ice, but with an expression so much colder, took in the silent man as he leaned a hip against the wooden frame of his desk. He'd trained Soubi better than this, trained him be able to overcome such weakeness.

"Soubi-kun, don't you think I'm getting a little old for this?" He curled his lips into a scathing grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Why don't you have _Ritsuka_ do it for you?" Ritsu was baiting Soubi, to be sure. Why, though? He didn't want to admit it, but he was _glad _the younger man had come back. Thrilled, even. But something engrained it him made it impossible not to be cruel. Maybe he'd spent to many years 'training' Soubi.

"Ritsuka is too… good."

The fighter turned his face away, but not before Ritsu caught the pained expression. Irritation flared. He pushed away from his desk and moved to stand in front of the man, cupping his face and gently—mockingly—forcing it back around. "Ritsuka doesn't want you to be happy?" Again, a faint grin, so small it was almost untraceable. But Soubi caught it, ever observant. Sometimes Ritsu wondered if Soubi could see through his cruelty just easily has he could see through his ghosting expressions—see straight through to his heart.

"I'm leaving."

Ritsu heaved a soundless sigh, but moved across his office as Soubi turned to leave. As he'd known Soubi would, the younger man stopped at the sound of the cabinet door creaking open.. And then, without instruction, the fighter unit moved to the wall, falling into the routine they'd established so many years before. He shrugged out of his typical fur-trimmed violet coat, and then deft fingers unhooked the buttons of the lightweight shirt beneath with an expression that spoke of resignation, but with a speed that spoke of…anticipation? Did he really want to be purged that badly?

"Let me help." Ritsu offered, sliding his hand over Soubi's, relishing in the warmth of his flesh. It struck him odd that the feel of his skin was so unfamiliar—but then, this was not the child he'd held back then. Soubi slipped his hand away and finished the buttons without help; but then, it didn't surprise him. Ritsu had known what his answer would be even before he'd offered.

"First, punishment."

Fine then. Ritsu would give it to him. The former student moved to press his hands to the wall; former teacher shifted the whip from his left hand to his right, and—

_CRACK_

One. He felt gooseflesh rise on his skin at the familiar sound of whip against flesh—but it wasn't the beating that caused catalyzed his reaction. It was, rather, the familiar precursor to something far more stimulating.

_CRACK_

Two. Would this satisfy his need to be purged of his sins? It would certainly satisfy Ritsu and his frustration. He gritted his teeth together in irritated remembrance, spinning the corded leather of the whip's handle in his palm. Soubi's devotion to the Aoyagi brothers was sickening. In all truth, Soubi deserved to feel guilty. He should have come back to his benefactor sooner. After all, who _really_ cared for Soubi the most? Not Seimei, who'd abandoned the fighter like excess baggage. And Ritsuka? In the end, he'd turn out just like his brother.

The third and fourth strokes sliced through the air, and the only sound that broke the silence was the snap of the whip. But to Ritsu's unending surprise, a whimper so faint he could only have imagined it—and indeed, he had to have imagined it!—slipped out from Soubi's lips. Really? Only four strokes, and his unbeatable fighter's strength had crumbled? He returned his hand to his side, and the whip made an eerie slithering noise along the floor.

It had been two years since Soubi had been punished, Ritsu realized, watching him slip to his knees. Good god. No wonder he'd been unable to withstand the pain.

But this was what he'd been waiting for. He let the whip slide to the ground, and he followed suit, crouching to the balls of his feet. By act of habit and—Ritsu hoped—because of desire to regress back to the relationship they'd held when he was a child, Soubi hitched his arms around Ritsu's hips. Slowly, painfully, as if just the movement of his arms was a struggle. The familiar weight of the younger man's head on his thigh prompted the older man to lower his knees, and before long, the warmth of Soubi's breath penetrated his shirt, warming his side.

Desire surged, something he'd not felt since Soubi had gone. Possessively—and with a strength that denied any comfort—Ritsu bent over and embraced him, long arms encircling the beaten man and pressing the top his head to his chest. This…It was so different now that someone else held Soubi's heart. Back then, he'd made love to a child, a youth that had eyes only for his _teacher._ But now? The fact that someone else was the sole person in Soubi's mind only increased his need to reclaim him.

He felt Soubi sigh against his neck, and pinpricks of pleasure raced across his skin. If Ritsu took him now, would he be willing? He slid his mouth around the soft skin of the fighter's ear, gently tasting. But—unable to be noticed by Soubi—his expression changed; a grin too filled with cruel amusement to be_ just_ teasing curled his mouth. Mockingly, sensually, he slid his tongue across the curve of cartilage that shaped the top of his ear.

"Are you really happy with that boy, Soubi-kun?" His hot breath lifted the hair at Soubi's ear, and Ritsu could feel the man distancing himself, even now. Any moment, and Soubi would pull away completely to leave again, maybe even for good. So Ritsu seized the opportunity he had, and the man's jaw. "Are you?" But he didn't wait for an answer—didn't really want to know. After all, Soubi couldn't decide anything on his own—didn't want to. He wanted to be ordered, and in away, _this_ was an order.

He cupped the back of Soubi's neck with his hand and let his mouth show what he couldn't say very well. He loved him, he really did…in his own cold, even cruel, way. But the younger man had never objected to his harsh treatment, and Ritsu had come to think it was what he wanted. Had Ritsu _caused _Soubi's masochism? That thought stung; if so, the reason Soubi had tolerated Seimei's beatings would be entirely Ritsu's fault…And he didn't want to dwell on that.

The feel, the taste, of Soubi's mouth stroked a fire in him he couldn't afford to let blaze, a flame too potent to be healing. But, wonder of all wonders, the fighter was responding, and not with the boyish shyness he had in his youth; Ritsu found he couldn't pull away. And neither would he let Soubi. At least, that had been his plan.

_Bsst! Bsst! Bsst!_

Before he could snag the offending device, Soubi pushed up with surprising force from the position Ritsu had eased him down to and dug the phone from his pocket, hastily snapping it open.

"SOUBI!!!" He could hear Ritsuka's angry voice from where the fighter held the phone to his ear. "Where the hell are you? I've been trying to reach you!" Irritated, but unwilling to fight for Soubi's attention, Ritsu sat back and rested his weight on his palms. How spoiled Ritsuka was showing himself to be. Could not Soubi take even a day—or two—for himself? Ritsu scowled with annoyance.

"Ritsuka, I…" Soubi stood and moved away from his former teacher, pressing the finger of his other hand to his ear as he moved toward the door. "I must not have had service. I'm coming now."

And just like that—Soubi was gone. Again.


End file.
